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idylll - tasty lyrics

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[verse 1: levigne]
unmade from the stresses
the stupid f+ck’s inventions seem a little more outlandish than intended
but never seem to phase the little mass of pundits brave enough for lessons
the students sound like claws within a cave of blundered messages
the tests consist of pages of unanswerable questions
the panic that ensues after that grand, initial second
how manic b+st+rds do sh+t past the land of gripping weapons
the pistol smith and wesson
i’m betting, it’s all a little plot for undeniable dominance
the kim of running guides around dominions
whole world’s spinning
somebody screaming “f+ck the free world” lost their eyes for something brilliant
and never got to witness it before they went blind
i’m yelling “why does nothing good come out of sacrifice”
upon the ears that can’t respond to one thing at a time
this ringing isn’t ever gonna stop if no one talks about the resonance
but i’ma shut the f+ck up and resign

[verse 2: idylll & levigne]
i’m fine, i’m lying
i wrote a lullaby to now lull the lies in my skull of lights
mold the ice so the cold’s applied where the bullet lies
in me
the temple of divinity holding simplistic energies, souls and the wretched likes
right
set it straight, leave it all til’ it’s set in place
leave it all to set ablaze so we don’t suspect a thing
left
the rest of what one sold, am i supposed to the read the spot that’s so small
it’s just better if it stays a cage
it’s just that i’m f+cking fed up and i want get up every day
it’s just that spite’s the thing solely motivates
and as you grow, only fate you know is no one fate
hold them safe
intend no mistakes, but regardless
demention always f+cks up everything
dimensions hardly look a better place, look for better sp+ces to blank in
so the effects of blame can’t restrain your pent up head in chains
don’t wed yourself to shame
[verse 3: levigne & idylll]
fret the flame, get sent to a grave of busted glass and endless pain
don’t, relax in a padded plane
smash and grab a wing, exhibit the prophet made
your omen never told the future of the game that was played
slingshot the band back and fourth, rumble rumble
rubber b+lls bounce on the wall, i’m running for it for when i fumble
cause it’ll happen sooner or later, can’t rely on supports to keep the crumble
assh0l+s buy a slice and and give you rubble
wrestle with the gator, danger double
hard to determine expression of a gene through a graph
one way window to the struggle
those behind the mirror laugh at trouble
come by the curb and take a stab
next weeks a new saga, newly drab
bodies dragged through something good
depreciation of the woods from blood and tags
this place smells like rotting flesh
may i please get a bag?

[verse 4: idylll]
i don’t think that it’s that, somethings different
things are amiss, admissions seen and then tracked
get strapped
a lot of death tends to follow
exhalations of disease
retentions of pretentious thoughts and threats and split up ends
i’m impressed by the fact that the ends meet
talk about slugs, none contending
hollow
infringing on the privacy, get privy to the point
and it’d be wicked if there’d have been any choice
declarations of the free
held remembrance for the boys, knowing they ain’t gonna remember it
anointed to an empress, internally limbless, externally, working to spin this
burgundy face to something certainly more appealing
burn off the layers of the ceiling, no tracings
twists and screams, asphyxiation of the leech
and if you missed it, mixed from bravest of the breeds
no praises just for being
take these wounds and l!ck them ’til they break and f+cking bleed
because the flavour of defeat is tasty



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